


isen smeltar av ditt ljos

by Darnaguen



Series: of how we calmed the tides of war [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Norse Religion & Lore, Alternate Universe - Vikings, F/M, Ficlet, Gen, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 06:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18515347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darnaguen/pseuds/Darnaguen
Summary: “Cold” and “Warm” for the damerey week 2018, forgot to post it before oops!





	isen smeltar av ditt ljos

–

“Are you cold, my lady?”

A thick blanket of fog was rolling in from the sea and she realized her hands, smoothing absently over the fresh runes carved on her staff, were trembling with the chill. She tore her gaze away from the flames, rapidly blinking away the crackling blue-and-green impression behind her eyelids. 

“I told you not to call me that.”

A grin tugged at the corner of Fóthraðr’s mouth despite the grey-cast weariness visible on his face in the merciless dawn. He sat across from her, unheeding the moisture dripping down his neck – torn sailcloth canopied across a small natural alcove between weather-worn rocks offered little shelter – and rubbed his hands together over the modest driftwood fire.

“You did,” he agreed, his grin blooming wider. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m not even  _your_  jarl.” She paused, giving him a stern look. “And don’t you _dare_ call me ‘princess’.”

His shoulders shook with silent laughter – she was quite sure it was mostly laughter, anyway. She took a closer look at his worn face and realized something:

“And no, I’m not cold. Well, not so cold I can’t manage. But  _you_  need sleep.”

She glanced over to where Finn lay curled, dead to the world. He and Fó had been the ones to bear the brunt of getting  _Fálki_ off the rocks after the stormwinds broke the pre-dawn calm.

( _“Seagulls!”_  someone had cried just before a creaking crash rocked the hull, dousing the panic it might have otherwise caused. Land was not far – even if ‘land’ had turned out to be little more than a chain of rocks jutting out of the thunder-grey waves. Limping the damaged longship to the rocky shore of the nearest islet had exhausted the crew but everyone was alive and happy to be so. Their course had held true.)

He ran both of his hands over his face, suddenly defeated. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am.” She allowed a tinge of tenderness color her teasing tone and patted the furs laid next to her.

He blinked at her. “Hrei…”

“ _Sleep_ ,” she ordered, busying herself again with the runes to hide her flush of pleasure at hearing her name from his lips.  _Ridiculous._ “Plenty of room here.”

Gratitude warmed his eyes and he shifted without further protest to lay close to the fire. The heady smell of sea salt and warm, wet wool filled the small space, making her smile despite herself at his half-mumbled words as he slipped into Nótt’s realm:

“As my lady commands.”

–


End file.
